


Wicked Game

by annie_rose



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Magic, Romance, Sansa you saucy minx, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, UST, im not even sry, sandor is an asshole, uove been warned, ust everywhere, wild!west!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2595221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annie_rose/pseuds/annie_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Wild West, not only is the desert unforgiving, but the people who inhabit it too. </p><p>All alone in the world, Sansa Stark struggles to keep her head above water. After being constantly on the move for three years due to her family being hunted, Sansa comes into financial debt. If she doesn't leave they'll find her. If she doesn't leave she'll die. </p><p>Fortunately for her, a certain hound crossed her path before any of her enemies have a chance to. But will that keep them from finding her?</p><p>Stay tuned to find out ;) </p><p>(This'll probs be a slow burn...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=gY8iy8S0S4w

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "wicked game" 
> 
> Everything but the story is GRRM's, all hail George!!! ;) xx

December 15th 1876

"Sansa!!" She heard the room door open and slam as Harry ran in with a broad smile on his face. They'd been together only a couple months, but she already knew she loved him. He was her best friend, and she'd do anything for him. He loved her too, she saw it in the way he'd never pushed her for more than a few chaste kisses. The way he'd work himself half to death to keep a roof above their heads as they traveled from town to town.

"Sansa!! I found work!!" He exclaimed running to her side and placing a big kiss against her cheek. Sansa smiled up at him.

"What have you found work doing, my love?" She asked, draping her arms round his shoulders.

He went quiet a moment and looked away frowning. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, seemingly trying to find the right words to say. "Well, it might sound bad at first, but a jobs a job, you know, and he even offered you a job there too, not doing the .... Usual things women do there... But cleaning and helping with the bar..." He trailed off.

"Well?" Sansa asked "where is it?" 

Harry looked back to her with an almost cautious expression "It's the brothel down the road, Baelish's place." 

Sansa's smile fell. And with that, so did Harry's. She felt bad. She knew how hard it was for him to find work this time, and he already owed Mr. Baelish money for renting the room. She tried to smile again, "That's as good a place as any... Sure, it's a little unsavory, but its not as though I'll be a whore there. And we'll be able to pay back Mr. Baelish, and we could even work towards buying a house. We could set up a life here, Harry." She paused and looked up at him through her lashes, suddenly feeling somewhat shy. "We could get married? Start a family?" She added.

Harry looked startled at first, but his expression quickly changed to one of Happiness as he lifted Sansa up in the air and spun her around, planting light kisses all over her face. She giggled and kissed him back.

* * * 

The next day work began. They awoke early in the morning and made their way to the brothel. When they got there, almost everyone was asleep and the place was an absolute mess. The only person who wasn't asleep was Mr. Baelish, or as some liked to call him, Littlefinger. He was sitting in the middle of the room at one of the tables, looking through a pile of papers. As they walked in, Baelish looked up from his work and smiled. Sansa smiled back warmly at the man, as best she could, but something in his stare made her shiver. 

"Ah, how nice to see you again Harry, and I'm so glad you decided to join us miss?" Harry must not have told him her name, she quickly wracked her brain to come up with a new one. She changed it each time they moved towns. 

"Alayne," she replied demurely with a respectful incline of her head and a soft smile. 

"Alayne." He repeated and nodded his head. "I expect Harry told you of what you'd be doing?" He raised his brow and Sansa nodded. "Good, I'll be showing you around now then."

The downstairs part of the whore house was set up with the bar to the side of the room and tables and chairs fanned out in front of it. To the back of the room were stairs that led to the whore rooms. Sansa's job was just as Harry had said, cleaning and being a barmaid. Harry's main duty was as hired muscle in case things got out of hand, but also as an extra bar hand, if needs be. Sansa was to come in and clean early each morning at around 6am, and be done by 10am. Then she was expected back by 2pm, until 2am on Thursdays through to Sunday. The rest of the week she'd have off. 

* * *

At first the work hours were strenuous, but three weeks in, and they were used to the routine. Some days were easy, some were hard. But none were like that day. She didn't practice magic much anymore, but she still had a sixth sense for when something terribly bad was going to happen. She hadn't told Harry of her... Abilities yet, in case he think her a freak. Plus, it might attract unwanted attention. That was what had forced her to flee in the first place, that and the people hunting her family like it was sport. 

She climbed out from bed and walked to the window and opened the shutters. It was still very early, but she could already smell trouble brewing on the horizon. She leaned forward through the window, and reached her hand towards the sun. But when she reached she did not see light, but great darkness, that shadowed the day. It scared her. 

Sansa shut the windows and quickly climbed back into bed. She turned and watched the rise and fall of Harry's chest as he slept. Sansa smiled and leaned over to wake him, but when she touched his skin, she saw a vision of complete darkness, just as she'd seen in the sun. As she jolted back it woke Harry. He slowly blinked his eyes open and turned towards Sansa, smiling, not sensing her worries. 

Sansa masked her face and smiled back, she traced circles on his chest and kissed his cheek. "Let's stay here today, we'll tell Baelish we can't work." She said, trying not to sound desperate. 

Harry looked at her, surprised, "We have to work," he said smiling back at her fondly, "We've only payed him back half of what we owe him," he kissed her neck "as much as I'd like to stay in bed all day," 

Sansa sighed, she didn't want it to be this way, but something dark was coming today, and she'd do anything to keep him safe. "What if I were to say I want to marry you today." She said looking up at him from where she rested on his chest. He stopped breathing a second, and then broke into a huge smile. 

"Sansa, are you sure? You don't even have a dress? And and... Are you sure?" He asked breathlessly, tears pooling in his eyes.

"Yes," she replied smiling brightly back at him. "I've wanted this for a long time, who cares about a stupid dress. I only want you." She said almost in tears herself. 

As they got dressed she planned it in her head. The less time they spent outside the better. She could keep away the darkness. She'd change the day. She'd keep him safe.

They'd go straight to the chapel and marry quickly and then they could come straight back to the room and stay there for the rest of the day. She could do a quick spell of protection over the room, and then nothing could harm them. Not in here. She'd tried doing a spell of protection on Harry but her magic was not strong enough after not being used in so long. She wondered if she'd ever tell him of who she really was, or who she used to be. She'd lived so many lives as different people in the last few years, it was hard to explain even to herself. She sighed and looked across the room to Harry. He was tying up his shoe laces and every few minutes he'd look over to her smile and then look back down. She smiled warmly at him and blushed.  
Thinking of spending the whole day with her new husband in doors sprung up all manners of ideas in her mind. Yet she was still a virgin. So she was nervous too. 'Nervous and excited' she decided and finished readying herself. When they left the room they went straight to the chapel as planned the priest said he could perform a ceremony at 7am. It was only 5am so, with time to kill Harry insisted on going to see Littlefinger and telling their employer the good news. Sansa didn't want to. She wanted the safety of their room, but Harry was insistent so she finally relented. When they got there, Baelish was sitting where he usually sat in the middle of the room at one of the bar tables. 

He looked up and smiled at them. "You're early this morning," he said, looking to Sansa.

"Well, actually, we came to give you news, Mr. Baelish. Unfortunately I'll be unable to work today as.." Harry cut in, smiling brilliantly and grabbing Sansa's hand proudly 

"We're getting married sir!" He practically shouted. 

Littlefinger smiled at the couple, "oh, how lovely! Well, I suppose a congratulations are in order!" He shook Harry's hand kissed Sansa's.  
"Congratulations." He said, and Sansa thought, he genuinely meant it. 

Sansa smiled back warmly at her employer. Then Baelish seemingly remembered something and reached deep into his pocket and pulled out a bag of coins, he grabbed Sansa's hand and placed the coins in it, saying "Go but yourself a nice dress, while I have a drink with your husband." 

Sansa smiled brilliantly at the man and thanked him for his generosity. She looked to Harry and he nodded towards the door. She was about to leave when she remembered what today might hold. She looked back to Harry "will you be okay?" She was asking it more to herself than to him. 

Harry huffed a laugh and kissed her nose "I'll be fine," he said smiling "you go and get the pretty dress you always wanted and when you come back ill be here waiting to marry you." 

The words sent butterflies to her stomach and made her dizzy in the head. She supposed she'd only be gone a few minutes, she'd be quick about it, and choose whatever she saw first that fit. Sansa nodded and kissed her husband-to-be and left.

She knew which one she wanted straight away, and luckily, it needed no alterations. It was simple but beautiful, short sleeves with a bright blue bow around her middle that matched the color of her eyes. The hem came down only to her knees, and underneath, the petticoat was the same vibrant blue as the bow around her middle. 

As she walked from the shop with a smile on her face, dressed in her wedding dress, something made her stop in her tracks. She was almost at the brothel when she heard it. Yelling, two loud gun shots, and then silence. Sansa's heart stopped beating. The smile fell off her face. And it was as though the shadow of today had revealed itself. She ran towards the whore house. She heard a man say "I'll be back in a month," and the largest man she'd ever seen brushed passed her as he walked out. As he made contact with her a burning sensation shot through her body. She looked into his deep grey eyes and saw nothing but death. It was then she realized he was the shadow. He smiled a disgusting twisted smile at her. A smile that reminded her of someone from her past. A golden haired boy, who loved the sound, smell, taste of fear. 

Sansa ran inside the door, and felt as the air was knocked out of her. The place was a mess, Littlefinger was in a heap on the floor, his face a bloodied and cut. Chairs were broken, thrown around the room, bottles smashed. But Sansa didn't care for those things, for in the middle of it all was Harry's dying body. 

Sansa ran to his side and lifted his head into her lap. He was still breathing, and smiled up at her when he saw her. "Sansa." He said trying to lift a hand to touch her face. 

Her vision was blurred from all her tears and she caught his hand with hers. "Hold on, okay baby? Hold on, I'll make it better." She repeated those words over and over again, as she held his chest where it had been shot. 

She tried with all her might, everything she had, to heal him. But her magic was still so weak. She cursed herself for not knowing better. For not being prepared. She kept trying until Harry's hold on her hand began to slip. She looked back at his face, his eyes losing focus.

"No no no no no, Harry baby, look at me! Okay? Look at me! Harry," she cried out as sobs wracked her body. "We were supposed to get married! Harry. We're getting married." 

She stayed that way for hours. Sobbing, clinging to his lifeless form. By the time they finally pried her from his body the she was covered in her fiancées dried blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!!! I promise you'll see Sandor next chapter!!! 
> 
> Let me know what you think :) 
> 
> xxx


	2. http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=L5jI9I03q8E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title chapter comes from Nina Simone's 'aint got no, I got life' it is like the perfect backing track for this chapter haha so here's the link if you're interested: 
> 
> http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=L5jI9I03q8E

5th February 1877

* * *  
Sandor  
* * *

The early morning sun against his good cheek, was what roused him from his wine induced slumber. He groaned as he sat up and rubbed his temples, trying to will away the wine sickness. As he gained a bit more consciousness he took in his surroundings. Not too far off was a town, maybe an hours ride. With a sigh, he scrunched his eyes closed one last time, when he opened them again he got up and set into action, packing his few meager belongings, and saddling his horse. The ride to the town was uneventful, but what he saw when he got to the town was more than enough to make up for the boring morning, and the headache. 

Standing before him was something he'd been waiting 20 years to confront. He marched over to the giant of a man and shoved his shoulder. The giant turned around with a snarl, it looked as though he was in the middle of terrorizing the man across the table. A short man with calculating green eyes that seemed to put on a mask of nonchalance. Sandor knew better than that though. He could see the fear behind it. He could practically smell it. He turned his attention back to his brother who was smiling down at him "Brother!" He yelled. 

And then it began.

Without even thinking Sandor's fist made contact with his brothers jaw. His brother grunted and a fire lot behind his eyes. Gregor didn't care about pain, Sandor doubted he even capable of feeling pain. But Sandor had just disrespected him in public, and he could see in his brothers eyes and clenched jaw, this was no longer a game. Gregor charged towards him, but Sandor was faster, with more surer footing, so as Gregor charged at him, he missed and stumbled when Sandor moved out of the way. It was then Sandor realized his brother was drunk. He rolled his eyes. Of course Gregor was drunk at only 7am. Once again his hand moved of its own accord and Sandor found himself, with his finger on the trigger, his brother staring down the barrel of his gun. Gregor looked stunned a moment but then through his head back and laughed. Obviously not believing he'd really shoot. 

Sandor found himself pondering once again, if Gregor was able to feel pain. He quickly moved his gun and shot 4 times. A bullet for each limb. Gregor roared in pain, rolling on the ground, trying to get up. Having answered his question, he then raised his gun back towards Gregor's face.

Gregor looked at him then. "See you in hell, brother." And with that the last shot was fired. 

Everything was quiet. Everything was still. Everything was changed. 

He stood there standing at the last of his family's dead body. Suddenly the small man, with the green eyes was next to him shaking his hand, thanking him, offering him money, a drink, and a whore. He told him how he owned the brothel, and would give him whatever he wanted. The man seemed to have not heard the conversation between him and Gregor for he thought, he'd killed him to save this man. Sandor was fine with that. He didn't mind extra money, and he could do with a drink and a whore. Anything to take his mind from racing with unanswerable questions. 

"I'm Petyr, Petyr Baelish. And your name sir?" He inquired 

"Not a sir. Names Hound." He answered back gruffly walking in brisk steps towards the brothel. 

* * *  
Sansa.  
* * *

1 month since Harry's death, and still it wasn't any easier waking alone. It tore at what was left at her heart. She closed her eyes again and breathed. If ever there was a day she needed Harry it was today. Since his death, she struggled to pay off their debt to Mr. Baelish. And though once she believed the man held a soft spot for her, he didn't anymore, only lust filled his eyes at the sight of her. After Harry died, she was seen as fair game. So in exchange for rent money, food, bills, she'd pleasure him with her mouth and hands. He'd told her soon it wouldn't be enough, soon she'd have to start working as a whore, because the bills were too expensive. Soon was gone. And today was her first day. She'd been given a room in the house and now Baelish as good as owned her. It was still early. 7:30? She didn't know. Whatever time it was, the cleaning wouldn't do itself. She rose from bed and dressed. She made her way downstairs, clearing the tables and sweeping the floors. She was behind the bar when Mr. Baelish returned. She forced herself to smile at him, but her smile fell as soon as she saw who stood behind him. She made eye contact but tried to duck behind the bar as a last effort to not be recognized. 

It was too late. 

She heard his heavy footfall become louder and louder as he neared the bar, she grabbed a bottle and stood abruptly, nearly head butting him in the process, and schooled her face to a perfect mask. He looked at her with confusion. "Sansa?" He questioned.

"No, Alayne. You must be mistaken." She replied, and with a mod from Petyr, poured the Hound and Baelish a drink.

"Must be." He almost whispers, before he downs his shot. It sounded as though he was saying it more to himself than anyone else. 

After that they went over to a table at the back and Sansa was called over every now and then to refill their glasses. Every time she looked over to the table she'd meet the stormy grey eyes of her past, and wonders how she didn't realize it was his brother that had killed Harry. She wonders what he'll do, now that he knows she's here. She wonders where he's been the last 3 years. She'd heard he was dead. And for some reason, she felt glad that he wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the update :) 
> 
> xxx


	3. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=wycjnCCgUes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been ages! Hope you enjoy the chapter :) xxx

* * *  
Sandor  
* * *

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. It was her. There was no doubt in his mind. She didn't look like such a child anymore but it was definitely her. Sansa Stark. Baelish was going on and on about his story of how he'd escaped death so narrowly, how Sandor could have whatever he'd wish. All the while Sandor watched the little bird flitter around the room sweeping up broken glass, wiping up spilt drinks. She is one of the most wealthy women in the states and she's working as a barmaid in some shithole town for some wimp of a man.The pompous twat sitting across from him finally seemed to notice his staring as he smirked with eyes flickering to the little bird. 

"Alayne, bring us another round please." He called out to her. 

Her blue eyes met his briefly, before darting down towards the bench focusing on trying to pour their liquor with shaky hands. She clumsily and ungracefully made her way over to them, looking pointedly at the ground before coming to a halt by the table they were seated at. She turned to leave but this "Baelish" character caught her hand. Spinning back around nervously she slowly rose her eyes to her employers. 

"Mr... Hound, looks weary, please show him to one of our rooms so he might relax, and find some ... Comfort. He looks exhausted." 'Not just a barmaid then' he thought to himself. The sly man had a light and almost friendly tone but his eyes spoke of superiority. He looked at her, the way one might look down to a toddler. Sansa's eyes ever so slightly widened before she schooled her face to be a look of indifference. She'd gotten better at lying, only her shaky hands revealed her true emotions. Sansa looked to him and gave a tight lipped smile.

"Please sir, follow me." She turned away and started towards the stairs. 

As they climbed the stairs he watched her arse move side to side, the sway of her hips an ultimate source of hypnotism, what need was there of her magic when just her body was enough to pull him under. They reached the top of the stairs and to a room three doors down. Just as her dainty hand turned the handle and opened the door, screeching, Baelish called her again. Her eyes flickered with annoyance before the polite face and shaky hands were back.

"Please make yourself comfortable sir, I'll be with you shortly." Again she gave that tight lipped smile and nodded her head towards the room. 

"Not a sir." He grumbled as he walked into the room. She shut the door behind him and took in the surroundings. There was a large bed in the centre of the room an old wooden chest in the corner and a small desk and mirror opposite the door with fake jewels and hairpieces tossed messily atop it. He heard them talking down the stairs. Thin walls. He sat down on the bed and it gave a loud groan under the pressure of his weight. Sandor kicked off his shoes and placed his satchel on the back of the door, before returning to his spot on the bed. Foot steps. He heard as they got closer and closer before they passed. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd held. And shook his head. What was this morning? It was like some strange kind of dream. Where he got everything he'd ever wanted but not the way he'd wanted it. Or would soon anyways. He wouldn't be the gallant knight and refuse her, even if it was only her job. Just cause she chose to deny who she really was didn't mean he would to. No. He'd be dishonourable, filthy even, take what he wanted without guilt or shame. And then the door handle turned and she was standing there. In a different outfit now. All done up, half undone- as was the way in these establishments. She looked at him timidly and cursed him with another of those false smiles of hers, and it made him wonder if she even knew how to give any other. She walked into the room and knelt in front of him, her eyes lowered respectfully toward the ground. 

"What would you have of me?"

* * *  
Sansa  
* * * 

As she walked up the stairs she felt his eyes on her. Almost burning her with their intensity. She moved her body like she was shrugging a memory off her shoulders. That gaze was something uncomfortable. Only one thing was on his mind, and magic had nothing to do with the way she knew. She remembered that feeling so well. It felt like being burnt by fire. No one forgets that feeling. And then she wondered if their burns connected them somehow. If it Let them know they were two of a kind. "Only a man who's been burnt, truly knows what hell feels like." - He'd told her that, and later when her torture from Joffrey progressed, she experienced hell first hand. She thinks back to the day she was burned. He had already left. Sheriff Clegane, was no longer there to enforce the law, not that he ever did really, just supervised- made sure nothing too bad was done to her. But even for that she was grateful. She learned just how much influence he had on her captors when he left. The beatings, the torture, went from bad to worse in the space of a few days. Those few days is what gave her what she supposed some would consider courage to escape her prison. Though she knew it better as desperation, as something closer to not caring if she lived or died. Something she never wanted to feel again. 

When they reached her room she opened the door before being called once again by Baelish, she had to fight not to roll her eyes, she knew he was watching. She recited her lined perfectly and ushered Sheriff.. Not sheriff, he left that behind. The hound then. She ushered the hound into her room and quickly went back down the stairs to Petyr, still sipping his liquor with a sickly smile painting his face an even sleazier shade of disgusting. 

Petyr held out his hand to her and summoned her closer, he rested his outstretched hand on her hip when she was within reach and rubbed small circles with his thumb on her hipbone. 

"Give him a show. Make him believe you want him. Make him tell you his secrets and if you fail, then I want you to pleasure the hound until he is so tired he'll fall into the deepest sleep he's ever had. And when he falls asleep I want you to look through his bag and report your findings back to me." Sansa looked at him questioningly. Petyr continued. "He saved my life but he's not giving anything up. He might be just as dangerous as that other man. I'd like you to find out who he really is." She nodded once more and made her way towards the stairs. 

"And fix yourself up a bit, will you? Get something more suitable from Randa's room." This time she did roll her eyes as she climbed up the stairs. 

She passed her bedroom and went to get a slutty outfit. An outfit to make men want her and tell their secrets in exchange for sexual favours. Unfortunately the hound was not as stupid as other men though. He'd take what she'd offer and repay her in impassive stares and scowls. 

She sifted through the whores treasure chest of costumes and decided on the light green corset and matching panties. She tied her hair in a bun and put on some light makeup before returning to her room once more. 

As she stepped through the door she watched as what could only be described as uncertainty, crossed the hounds features. His half burnt lip twitched and she broke eye contact in favour of the floor. She placed herself at his feet nervously chewing her lip. 

"What would you have of me?" She remembered this time to ditch the sir. 

Moments that felt more like hours passed and she felt as he gently tugged a stray strand of hair between his overly large fingers. His fingers left her hair stroked down her cheek. There it was again. That feeling like she was burning. His touch rolled down her cheek to her neck to her collarbone like the travels of a tear. Her eyes rose from the floor, mouth slightly agape in wonder at the gentleness of his touch and curiosity as to what might happen next. There was fear there too. But that emotion wasn't the one most prominent. If she had to name one she'd say butterflies. Beautiful, exciting, scary butterflies, flying up from her stomach and out of her open mouth.

"No." He simply said. And then turned away.

"No?"

"No" he repeated. She frowned. "I'm tired, haven't had a soft bed in what feels like years. You can leave." 

She frowned again "can I stay?" Sandor looked at her with his eyebrows raised. "He'll be angry if I leave so soon." She went on. Sandor furrowed his brow, gave a terse nod before moving over and falling back down amongst the cushions. Sansa almost smiled at how he'd made room for her on the bed. A small act of gallantry, more than most were capable of. 

She laid down beside him and studied his features while his eyes were shut. His breathing began to even out and she traced a line with her fingertip down his profile, forehead to just below the bump of his Adam's apple.

Her hand was snared, and then thrown back to her side of the bed. "Don't" was his only word and Sansa mentally kicked herself for being so stupid. She settled herself amongst the cushions and once again waited for his breathing to even out so she could do as Baelish had asked. 

Seconds. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into too many minutes to keep her eyes open. Sansa fell asleep and only woke when she felt like she were being pinned down. Flashed of memory were awoken from the back of her mind, her breathing came in short gasps and she almost screamed before she forced herself to open her eyes. And then there was such utter relief. This time only a sigh escaped her lips, no more butterflies. She looked down to see Sandor's massive arm thrown over her waist. His hand curled around her waist, moving ever so slightly each time he inhaled and exhaled so it felt like he was caressing her. It left her feeling a quarter wholesome, and three parts still in the dark. Who was he now? This man with gentle hands and violent tendencies. Had he changed? He seemed... Calmer now. Sansa found herself more and more drawn to his satchel now. Not because she valued or even cared to do her job, but out of genuine curiosity as to who this man really was. Not that she thought he was the type to be defined by the contents of his baggage. Or maybe... She had to look. 

She gently lifted his hand from around her, slipping out from beneath his grasp and tiptoeing to where the doorway. Sansa gently lifted the strap from off the hook on the door and placed it by her feet. She pulled out item after item until it was empty. Compass, map, stale bread, whisky, a pocket watch and his identification documents as well as a few wanted posters of different criminals. Sansa picked one up at a time and her eyes rolled back into her head as she saw their journeys. Inanimate but so alive with what they've seen. What they hold on to. Sentimental is what all, things inanimate were, whether the owner of said items agreed or not. She was just putting down the map when she heard the bed groan. She looked up eyes wide with fear. The hound stared down at her with annoyance.

"It fell. The bag. Your bag, fell. I was just..." She was cut off by his rasping growl

"You were just going through something that wasn't yours." He finished for her.

"I..." 

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to snoop, little bird. Rude to pry and dig through people's personal belongings." He was almost yelling now. Sansa started to curl into herself, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "Obviously not." He huffed angrily. "Come here." He commanded after seconds of awful silence. She stood up from the floor and walked over to him til she was standing in front of him. He grabbed her hips and pulled her to stand between his legs. "Well?" He said almost snarling, yet his touch was still gentle. "What were you doing?" 

"I was only curious." She squeaked out. 

"Well, your curiosity veers into the area of impoliteness. And when someone is impolite they should be disciplined." "On my knee little bird." He commanded, Sansa looked at him questioningly for a moment before moving to sit in his lap. Sandor lifted her and turned her over so her bottom was facing up towards him and her body almost flat face down. His hand stroked over her bottom and pinched. She squeaked. "I'm going to spank you now, okay." He said it almost like a question. But still not one. "Anything you want." She said. The only reply she got was the loud whack that resounded throughout the room, before she felt the sting of his slap on the tender flesh of her bottom. She gasped and bit her lip trying to bite back the tears. Not from the slap, it hardly hurt. But the indecency of it, she felt like a child. And for some strange reason the thought of him thinking of her as a child made it even worse. His hand rubbed over her panties until he pulled them down just over her rump so she didn't have to lift her hips. Then his hand was gone again and she closed her eyes in anticipation of the next slap. This time it was harder, she looked behind her and watched as he stroked her and then gave a slight squeeze before lifting his hand again. His hand made contact with her already sore bottom and squeezed hard this time. Two slaps later and he pulled her underwear back up and lifted her from his knee. 

"I'd like to talk to your employer." He said. Voice void of any emotion. Her eyes shot up at him and she had a look of pleading on her face. He answered it with a single raised eyebrow. She nodded and left the room. 

"Well?" Baelish asked when she approached. 

"He wants to speak with you." 

"Yes but what did you find out?" 

"He caught me looking through his things." 

Petyrs face went a light shade of red and his jaw tensed. "Stupid girl!" He hissed as he stalked up the stairs to the bedroom. She caught Sandor's eye as the door opened to the room, a brief moment where the air was sucked out of her lungs and then the door closed.


	4. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=zGDrN7j6esY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI :  
> I've decided to make my title chapters links to the songs I listened most to while writing them. :) xx

*** Sandor ***

He hadn't meant to touch her. But he saw her prying through what little possessions he had left and it was like something inside him snapped. He had let her be, he'd been 'honourable' and she'd repaid it with looking through his things, probably looking for spare coin like a real whore. He'd wondered if she'd looked through his book, if she now knew, not only the contents of his carry bag, but his secrets too. The book was still in the bottom of his bag but what if she'd seen what he wrote about her. Anger began to brew in his veins til he clenched the arms of his chair with white knuckles. He felt guilty, but he didn't think he should. That was his problem. She was his problem. Always making him contradict himself. He was a changed man now because of her - well, more because of her memory, but a few hours together and he felt 2 years of hard work, slipping away. How could that be? How did that work? She made him better but she brought out the worst in him too? _I'll make it up to her_ he thought and was immediately angry at himself for thinking it. Why should he make anything up to her? It was her fault? _Because she's her, and you'll never stop apologising for things you did and didn't do. Only because it's her. Her. her. her!_

His attention snapped back to mr Baelish. Sitting across from him, one leg folded over the other, one hand resting in his lap, the other waving around madly so that cigarette between his fingers left a map of smoke wherever it traveled. "Once again, Mr hound, I don't know what to say. We've never had an incident like this before, if you'd prefer another girl... That could be arranged immediately.."

Sandor smiled down at the small man. "I don't want another girl, I want her."

Mr. Baelish stared up at him almost dumbfounded but trying to put on an air of nonchalance. "You can keep her, if that's what you want."

And with those words Sandor finally knew that he did. He'd take her with him this time, she'd have no choice but to come. But that's not why he'd take her. He was different, he wanted her to know that, needed her to know it. "Yes, that's exactly what I want. I want her. And I don't want anyone else to have her." He replied. "

You want...?" It seemed to him as though Mr. Baelish was beginning to find it harder and harder to keep up his badly played facade. Sansa was probably the prettiest whore in the house and losing her would be losing money. Whore. That word wasn't for her. Even if that was what she was. "Yes, I want to take her. To 'keep her' as you put it. I won't be staying in this town long. So when I leave and I take her, i'll consider your debt to me payed." He winked at the smaller man and lit the cigar hanging out of his mouth. "Now," he said while rising to his feet. "I have business to attend to, I'll be back tomorrow to collect what's mine- that is if we have a deal?" He said the words like there was no choice as to whether this deal would go ahead or not. Because there wasn't. He would take her away from here. Such beauty should not belong to him but it sure as hell didn't belong in a dirty brothel either.

Baelish slowly nodded and stood to his feet. He smiled up at him, the smile of an unhappy man and shook his hand. "Of course, of course, please let me show you out." Sandor tipped his hat to the man on the way out and headed straight for the police department.

***

"So you're the man who shot down the big fella outside the markets this mornin'?"

"Yes sir,"

"And why, might I ask, are you confessin' to doin' so?"

Sandor pulled a poster out from his satchel. And placed it down onto the desk. Moving it across the table with the tips of his fingers a smirk played on his lips. He was about to get paid for killing his brother.

The sheriff looked down at the page and slowly read out the words one at a time. "W..wa..wanted... Huh, wanted."

Sandor was not a patient man.

"God damnit!" He said losing what little left there was of his patience. "It says wanted. Dead or alive. And that bounty down there says $1000. Now as you can see this sketch matches the man who I killed this morning as does the description. If you would be so kind..." He held out his hand expectantly. The sheriff frowned at the paper still trying to read it. Finally. After twenty minutes more of pissing around, the sheriff began to nod. "Yep, that's what it says."

Sandor rolled his eyes. The sheriff wrote out a paper stating the bank owed him $1000 and told him the directions as to where it was. "Also, before I leave, I'll be taking whatever belongings he had on him too." The sheriff looked at him strange, he dug into his bag and passed over his identification documents. The sheriffs eyes went wide. "He was.."

"We weren't on speakin' terms." Sandor cut in before he could finish. The sheriff looked disgusted but showed him to the back room where Gregors things were sitting displayed on a table. He took what was useful: money, a couple of guns, bullets, and the papers that stated he was now the sole owner of 400 acres of land. Clegane's keep. _Maybe today isn't so bad after all_ he thought, _I could sell the land get something new, something without memories, live there a happy wealthy man the rest of my days..._ Though he knew that wasn't true, he was never one to sit still for too long, he'd get bored if he retired too early. He needed something to keep him busy. _Sansa_. Her name came to mind unbidden. Shaking his head, he stuffed the valuable items in his satchel and left for the bank.

*** Sansa ***

"What do you think he'll do?" Randa's eyes were wide with worry, _if only she knew the day I've had..._ Sansa thought to herself while stroking Randa's hair from her face, "it's okay, I'm sure he didn't mean it, I'm sure he'll come back." She said softly to the other girl.

"He said he wasn't this time, he said he was done with me." Her friend wailed holding tight to her hair. Sansa winced when Randa's hold became too much, and she gently tried to pry the other girls hands off her.

"Oh! I'm so sorry Alayne! I haven't even asked how you're day was," she managed between sniffles.

"It was fine, Randa. But If you are okay, I might go and rest, it's been a tiring day."

Randa nodded and gave her a tremulous smile. Sansa sighed. "I'll stay here, you need me." She sat back down on the bed and held the other girl as she closed her eyes and smiled. "Oh thank you Alayne, I just don't think I can bear to be alone right now," she curled up into her side and Sansa waited for her to fall asleep before she attempted to leave.

Slowly slipping from her grasp she moved little by little of her weight off the bed to ensure it wouldn't screech and wake Randa again. Slowly tiptoeing out of her room she breathed a sigh of relief once she closed the door behind her, only to almost squeal when she turned around and found that Petyr was standing in such close proximity. "Alayne we need to discuss something, if you'll follow me." He walked down to his room without waiting for a response. And Sansa followed behind, all the while clenching her fists at his arrogant stride, the way he held his chin up so that he could still look down at her.

She flexed her fingers and a floorboard lifted just before Mr Baelish took his next step and stumbled almost losing his footing. Sansa tried to hide the smile that threatened to turn into a giggle but Baelish seemed to see it anyway as he turned back to see if she'd seen. He scowled at her. _Idiot_ she hissed at him in her mind.

They made it to his sleeping quarters and he closed the door behind her. He extended his hand to the bed and Sansa paused before seating herself on the edge of king sized mattress. _Just a_   _bit excessive_ she frowned. "I spoke with Mr Hound, and for your insolence and as my payment to him for saving my life, he's decided to take you as his personal.... Whatever. I don't know, it makes no sense to me, but he wants you and I'm in no position to refuse him. So, you'll pack your things tonight and as of tomorrow you will become his property."

As he went on Sansa's mouth slowly drifted wider and wider open. She was not a piece of meat, to be bought and traded, given to the highest bidder. _Well you are, as a whore._ With that thought she closed her mouth, and straightened her back. _One man is better than many_ , she thought. _It'll be no different than as if it were an arranged marriage without the marriage._ She winced at that thought. _It won't be the same. He's not the same._

She stood, left the room, and made her way back to her own to pack what little left she had. When morning came, she looked down out of the window to where his big black destrier stood outside. She grabbed her bag and opened her door a crack to see if he was inside. As soon as she spotted him flashes of their last encounter came back to her. She began to panic. _He's not Joffrey. It won't be the same._ Slap! And the sting returns. _What if he is?_ And then the caress, the feeling of his hand soothing that sting. _What if he isn't?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'd like to say, this isn't a story where Sandor is a nice a guy. He's mean, and dangerous and most of all confused. I won't portray him as a good guy when he isn't one. He's a bad guy who sometimes does good things, who's also got a soft spot for Sansa, but doesn't know how to show that to her. In this story he learns to be good, and that's through Sansa. With saying that she also tries his nerves and frustrates him and he doesn't know how to deal with it. I'm not saying that he'll ever truely hurt her in this fic, but that he's not exactly kind. 
> 
> Hope you liked the chapter, I promise there'll be more sansan action and angst next chapter ;) let me know what you think. 
> 
> Also if you'd like you can follow me on tumblr at anniephuckitt - I've put up a picset and will continue to do so with each chapter but I don't know how to put up a link hahaha you should all know by now that I am SHOCKING! With technology haha so my apologies :) xx


	5. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=j2N32PIYVHc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the bickering begins...
> 
> Btw I totally recommend listening to the chapters title song, bluejuice, are the shit.

*** Sandor ***

He watched as she slowly descended the stairs, her elegant hand gliding along the hand rail, as the other lifted her skirts to display long, slender legs, all dolled up as she always was. From then to now. From million dollar estates to brothel houses. She would always be beautiful. It was something that would never change. She was wearing a light pink frock, her hair done to the side, with bright red lips- _As if they need draw any more attention_. He absentmindedly licked his own chapped lips until he choked on his smoke. Quickly putting out the cigar in his hand he looked up again, hoping she'd missed his coughing fit. Judging by the slight curve shaping into a smile, she hadn't. He'd forgotten that too. She was always so attentive didn't miss a thing, always catching everyone out. _Always caught out herself_ he thought _,_ remembering the look on her face as she'd turned around to see him watching her looking through his things.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and extended her hand to him. Sandor snorted.

Sansa scrunched up her face and dropped her hand to her side. "When shall we be departing, Mr hound." It was his turn to frown. 'Mr Hound' sounded like a goddamn pets name.

"Now." He replied curtly.

Sansa nodded her head and turned to Petyr "Mr. Baelish, I can honestly say I'm ecstatic at the thought of never seeing you again."

Baelish's jaw tensed, and then he gave a thin lipped smile "A pleasure as always Alayne." He nodded and then left them, in favour of his own company apparantly, as he disappeared up the stairs.

"Is that all you've got?" He asked, looking down at the small bag by her side

"Yes, this is all." He thought he detected a note of sadness in her voice as she replied, but he didn't much care to investigate further.

"Then let's leave. I want to make it to the next town by nightfall, and it's already near midday." He grabbed her belongings from her hand and strode outside to where Stranger was waiting.

"You don't tie him up!" She chastised.

"Why would I?"

"He'll run away. Or could get stolen!"

"No he won't. He's a good boy, aren't you" he said stroking the black beasts neck. "Never strayed when I've told him to stay. And as for getting stolen, horses are stolen all the time - tied or untied, but even if someone did attempt to take him, I dare say they'd escape with their life" He chuckled, pat stranger on the rump and fed him the last of his cigar.

"You shouldn't feed him that, it's not horse food, he could get sick."

Sandor groaned. _Not even on the road yet and she's driving me insane._ "Listen here _Alayne_ , I don't much like being told what to do, especially by someone with the status of bed warmer. So shut your mouth and let me get the horse ready." "

You and I both know I am not a bed warmer." She whispered as if there were someone around to hear.

"See that's where you're wrong. Sansa, Sansa Stark of Winterfell, is much more than that. But apparently she's not present. Who is here, is Alayne Stone, of this here mangy whore house- _professional_ bed warmer." He noticed how she blanched at the use of her real name. But she quickly recovered her act of calm and collected and raised her chin up at him as if it made a difference. Arrogant, stuck up, bit...

He tripped over a rope he didn't even notice was there, into the water trough. Great. Just great.

He looked to where Sansa was standing she gave him a sarcastic smile and went back inside for whatever reason, he heard her giggle as she opened the door and disappeared inside. Stranger nickered merrily as if he was laughing at him too. He didn't care. As long as she was there when it was time to leave. He removed himself from the trough and strapped his and Sansa's things to strangers saddle. As he checked for everything he realised he only had one bed roll. That should be interesting. If they didn't make it to the next town by tonight they'd be sleeping outside. He wondered what little miss multiple personality disorder would think of that. Just as he thought of her she reappeared through the front doors holding an old blanket. She passed it to him. He looked at her with raised eyebrows, deciding to communicate through body language rather than speaking in case of starting another argument.

"To dry yourself with. " she explained. He nodded and dried himself as best as he could. He almost thought to say thanks but thought better of it when he saw her beautiful annoying face.

"Let's fly little bird." The nickname slipped off his tongue without him realising, she looked as though she might almost smile, but then he was lifting her into the saddle and he couldn't see her expression anymore. When she was settled he jumped up behind her and grabbed the reigns. He clicked his tongue to stranger and they started towards the edge of town at a steady pace.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Too close and not enough. Too close that's it was annoying, not enough that it was a battle of self control for Sandor not to grind into her firm little backside that was already rubbing against him. He decided to focus on the cactus' instead. _Is it cactus's or cacti?_

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

_For fucks sake_.

*** Sansa ***

She understood her mistake in knocking him in the trough when she realised she'd have to sit so close to him. Two hours later, and the back of her dress was soaked right through. Every time she leaned forward to get away from him he'd lean forward too, and pretend to pat Stranger or would just move forward completely so she was almost sitting on the pommel if she didn't lean back. He laughed as she huffed at him when she figured out what he was doing.

They only stopped once so Sandor could "take a piss". Sansa was mortified when he'd said it, there were no trees or anything for coverage, just flat land. She supposed it was silly being so offended when he'd already seen half of her naked body, but she couldn't silence the voice at the back of her head that screamed impropriety. Sansa needed to go too, but told herself she could hold it until they reached the next town.

As their journey wore on Sansa began to find it harder and harder to sit still. She felt as though her bladder might burst. Twisting and squirming in the saddle and in such close proximity to Sandor, Sansa soon felt a large bulge poking at her back, she gasped aloud as it nestled against her backside. The hound laughed. "What did you think was gonna happen? Now sit still or I might actually do something about it."

Sansa frowned and her mouth hung wide in repulsion. _You were a whore._ She reminded herself. _Not a whore, I was going to be, he saved y..._ There. Those thoughts. That thought particularly was too dangerous to even think, let alone believe. Because if he did save her, that meant she would owe him. There'd be this invisible debt hanging between them, and she hated that. Hated that she might actually have to be grateful to him. She stared hard at the horizon watching as it set hoping, a town would come into view before it did. Camping was not her forte.

Just as the sun was beginning to lose its shine and the southern sky filled with random stars like freckles on her skin, the town came into view. "We're in luck, was starting to think we'd have to sleep beneath the stars." Sandor rasped close to her ear. She decided she liked the sound of his voice when it wasn't mocking or arguing with her. It was a deep sound, like that of the sea as waves crashed. Soothing almost. Calm yet almost sharp when he said certain words a certain way. When he's harsh it sounds like knives being sharpened and when he's... Agreeable, like the howl of a wolf. Safe. She decided. He sounded safe.

She had not read his thoughts and intentions. Not yet, she'd wait until he was asleep. Although without even searching she was overcome with a feeling she had not had in a long time. It felt like home. _Can you hate your home?_ She wondered. She didn't hate him, not really. She just didn't like him. Not yet.

***

They finally reached the town 2 hours after the sun had set, Sandor had said they'd stop but she practically begged him to keep going. He teased her, of course. "Pretty little bird can't survive the harsh elements of nature."

"Oh no, I'm not half so strong as you Sir Hound!" She'd replied with as much venom in her voice as a snake. She'd practically hissed the word Sir. Though as soon as the words left her mouth she knew she'd gone too far.

He didn't talk back to her for the remainder of the way to the town, and when they did get there he swung off of stranger took their things, and just left her there!

"Hound!" She called out.

He turned so he was walking backwards a mean smile lit his face, "why don't you fly down?" Then he was gone, disappeared into the entrance of the tavern he'd rode them to. _Great_. She slowly slipped a leg over so she was half up half down. One foot was almost at the ground when the saddle began to slide. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground. Covered in dust and all manners of unholy things. _Someone could have pee'd here._ She thought scrambling to her feet.

When she looked up he was there, watching with amusement as she pushed past him.

"What are you looking at?" she hissed as she made her way to the door, trying to brush the dirt and filth off her skirts.

"Was just gonna ask if you needed some help." He replied trying to hide his smile.

She clenched her jaw "you're horrible."

He winked at her and opened the door for her muttering a "ladies first".

"Oh what a gentleman!" She sneered.

"I try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter, next one should be up soonish... Comments and kudos are always welcome ;) let me know if you like it guys, and where I can improve xxx


	6. Karma police

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to a ridiculous amount of radio head while writing this chapter. You should listen to karma police if you haven't already heard it. Sorry this chapters taken so long to put up, I've been suuuuuper busy and when I'm busy and upset I lack inspiration. I tried my best with this chapter but I'm still having a bit of trouble getting back into writing :/ anyways, I hope you like it. And I'd love to hear what you think :) xxx

They entered the room and all eyes were on them. It was normal. Everyone too nosey for there own good in the west. He rolled his eyes and pushed past Sansa who was standing rooted to the spot, apparently not use to so much attention. He made his way to the bar and asked for a whole bottle of whiskey and a room. He could spare the cash, he had more than enough to last. He looked back over to where Sansa was standing and asked for a room with a bath too. The barkeep quickly gave him his key and his whiskey eager to get back to serving someone less intimidating. Sandor scowled and snatched the key and drink from the young man, and turned back to see Sansa, still standing in the same place staring at something or someone.

He followed her line of sight and froze. There sat a man vaguely familiar to Sandor but Sansa was staring daggers at him. Walter Frey, owner of a business that worked in building and selling ships. He was set for a merger with the Stark business but when the contract was set to be signed there was a shoot out and the oldest Stark boy - Robb, and his mother were both shot dead. There were rumours that Frey had something to do with it but Sandor hadn't given it a second thought either way. Whether he was or wasn't he didn't care. It was best they stayed as out of sight as possible, he made his way back over to Sansa but it was too late. The pompous prick had already seen her- luckily for them he didn't seem to recognise her though.

Frey smiled and leered at Sansa. Her face immediately changed. Her demeanour went from cold and eyes filled with rage to light and playful. She moved away from Sandor and went to sit at the table. Sandor gritted his teeth and caught her arm before she sat. Sansa looked down to where he held her arm and raised her eyebrows. He let her go. "I'm not waiting around to hear you make small talk with some rich cunt, while I go thirsty. I'll be at the bar."

Sansa nodded and smiled. There was something so wrong about that smile. Something so sinister. It was like looking into a mirror. He didn't trust it. He looked at her with unsaid questions but she turned away again and went to sit at the table. Sandor moved towards the bar asked for a glass and set himself up for what he assumed would be a while. He couldn't leave her alone down here. She might leave. Or get hurt. He didn't trust any one of these slimy bastards down here. All looking at her with one thing on their minds. Sandor shook his head and took a shot.

He looked back over to where they were and saw Sansa leaning forward pressing her chest forward. Every mans eyes at that table were glued to her breasts. She threw her head back and laughed at something one of them said in an overdramatic show of interest. She flirted and winked, and at one point even leaned across the table and took a sip of Frey's drink before putting it back in front of him and licking her lips seductively.

He turned and focused on pouring his next drink. He watched as the Amber liquid sloshed into his glass. Something mesmerising about the way the drink swirled and settled. Before the glass had even touched his lips he heard gurgling, a disgusting sound but one he had revelled in too many times to not know what it was. He'd heard while listening to men choke on their own blood. He looked over to see Walter Frey lying on the floor gasping for breath, his companions around him looking to each other for what to do. All too busy to see the fire that danced in Sansa's eyes as she watched on. She gracefully gathered her skirts and walked over to the bar and asked for a rum. She was given it for free and blushed prettily at the bartender, when he winked at her.As soon as her eyes met Sandor's though, her smile fell. She made her way over to him and sat by his side, without saying a word.

Time passed and once she'd finished her drink she turned to him. "Sorry, if I kept you waiting. I suppose if there's one thing that being a whore taught me, it was to go after the wealthy ones." She laughed bitterly.

Sandor eyed her warily "Yeah, and I suppose it's just a coincidence he's now dead."

Sansa shrugged "It is most unfortunate." She said shaking her head and studying her perfectly manicured nails with a frown. How she could still look so perfect after a day of riding was beyond him. He wondered if she was ever, or could ever be, anything less than flawless. She looked up to him then, and that smile was back. It told all and nothing at the same time. She looked away before he could study it too closely. "Shall we go upstairs?" She looked up at him through her lashes and smiled again that seductive fake smile, that he'd quickly begun to hate.

"Don't do that." He growled. Getting up to leave with what was left of his whisky.

"Do what?" She asked trailing behind him.

He turned to her and looked down. "Don't do that fake, 'you're happy to be here, you wanna fuck me' charade. It might work on those other dumb-fucks, but you're not fooling me. So cut it out. I hate liars."

She rolled her eyes, "I know, I know, a dog will lie to you, but never die for you.." She said absent-mindedly.

Sandor clenched his jaw and gave her a look that would make lesser men wet themselves. Alas, Sansa was a woman. And a ballsy one at that. He wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to Sansa to make her change so dramatically. She was always so quiet and respectful, polite. He knew she used to be a whore, but she played the part a little too well, he wondered who she really was. She stopped and frowned "or was it the other way round." She said mock thinking while tapping a finger to her chin. Sandor snorted. She was a lot more like her hellion of a sister now, that was for sure.

He saw her lip twitch into a smile, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. When they arrived at their room he shut the door behind her and latched it. All of the sound and ruckus from down stairs was gone, they were eclipsed in total silence. Sansa's nonchalant air started to crack as he saw her hand shake again slightly as she filled a cup for him and herself with the whisky he'd just placed on the table. He took it from her and tilted his head to her in thanks. He swallowed it back in one gulp as Sansa daintily sipped at hers. Finally she sighed and straightened her back, making direct eye contact with him "what do you expect from me?"

"What do you mean, 'what do I expect'?"

She thinned her lips "Baelish sold me to you. You own me. What do you want from me?"

Sandor frowned. He didn't want anything. Well, he did, but that didn't mean he'd take anything. He liked to think he had standards. A certain set of morals which he lived by. Though, come to think of it, none of the rules he'd set himself prevented him from being able to fuck her. He looked up into her big blue eyes though, and was immediately lost. "I don't own you. No body owns you, Sansa. I think if there's one thing anyone knows about Sansa Stark it's that she ain't the type to be kept." He chuckled.

"So you don't want me?" He looked up at her confused.

"That's not what I said,.."

"So you do want me?"

"I, no, I..."

"How do you want me? Like this or this?" She said bending in strange angles. _How could you even do it like that?_

It was then he realised she was messing with him. Sandor let out a frustrated sigh and buried his face in his hands. _I'm getting real tired of these games._ He peaked through his fingers to see Sansa smiling. "Where'd d'you get such a sarcastic sense of humour?"

"HA! From you!" She laughed.

Sandor smiled. She probably did. Usually he was the one with the biting remarks, they just sounded so strange coming from Sansa's mouth. He nodded and poured himself another drink. "So I belong to myself." Sansa stated.

"Yeah."

"Hmm." She smiled to herself and looked up "I don't think I've ever belonged to myself. There was a year between when I met Harry and when I left the Lannister's but, my life wasn't my own. I was in hiding. I like this. It's a good feeling."

"Who's Harry?" He asked feeling a slight sting of jealousy.

"Just a boy, we were engaged. But he died. That's how I ended up with Baelish, we were in debt and I couldn't pay it back." He could tell there was more to that story, but he could see the hurt in her eyes as she spoke of him. It was obvious he wasn't 'just a boy' but he decided not to push it for now. So instead he went with "And so you became a whore?" There was more bite to the comment than he'd intended.

"It's not like I had much of a choice. I had nowhere to go. And I swore I'd never.." She seemed to stop herself before she got too carried away. He wanted to know the end of that sentence but she was already gone. Sharing time was over and she was moving to sit back down in the chair.

"I'm going to bed, you should do the same, big day tomorrow. Well, big day if you're coming with me. You don't have to.." He trailed off. He didnt know why he said it, but he knew that even if she chose not to stick with him, he'd stick with her, make sure she didnt get herself into too much trouble. Sansa smiled at him and nodded.

He took off his boots, and vest. He didn't remove anything else, for the sake of Sansa. She'd probably seen plenty of men undressed before, but a tiny nagging voice at the back of his head (that coincidentally sounded an awful lot like Sansa) told him to keep covered. He moved to the bedside and blew out the candle.

Sansa disappeared into the darkest corner of the room and changed out of her clothes into a short shift that reached mid-thigh. He gulped as she stepped towards the bed, her hair hanging loose down her back and so much skin on show. It made him think of the last time he saw her undressed and he cringed at himself.

Sansa hopped into bed and her freezing feet brushed against his, he almost yelped in surprise as Sansa giggled. He turned over and looked at her.

"I'm sorry." He said quiet and low, unsure of himself. The words felt so foreign on his tongue.

She frowned "what for."

"I shouldn't have.. Last night.. I.." He looked away suddenly angry at his illiterate self, for not finding good enough words for her.

Sansa shook her head. "It's alright. I shouldn't have gone through your stuff. I don't think I would have, but Baelish told me to. And then I was just gonna lie and say I did, but I wanted to know. I wanted to know who you are now, and where you've been."

Sandor chuckled "I'm not any better than who I used t' be. Maybe a little more patient- on a good day. But that's about it."

"No." She whispered, touching his forearm, her face scrunched up in a way that made her look earnest and adorable all at once. "You've definitely changed. You're calmer. More collected. I think I have missed you without really knowing you." She nodded to herself and looked into his eyes.

"Goodnight, little bird." He rasped, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Sansa jumped as the tips of his fingers touched the side of her face, and a look of wonder crossed her features before she schooled them back to a look of nonchalance.

"Goodnight, Sandor."

The last thing Sandor felt before he fell asleep was little bird nestling into his side and ice cold feet. He jolted and heard her beautiful girlish laugh once more. He liked that sound. Liked it a lot.


	7. That sinking feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, quick heads up, this chapter has suicidal thoughts through most of it, so if that's a problem maybe skip it. Just a short chapter, there'll be more soonish :)

A snake. A snake with one head, but when she tried to cut it off two grew back. One, two, three, four, five. The snake became a hand. Many hands scratching at her skin marking maps on her body with streams of blood and flesh. She goes to scream but she has no voice. Covered in a sticky substance that can only be her drying blood. A gun is under her chin. Cold green eyes are staring into her own. Fat lips touch her cheek, teeth bite at her ear. A voice of far away whispers threats. And she hears before she wakes "we'll find you." A thousand voices in one sentence but the most dominant is one she knows too well, to mistake. It taunts, sings the words like a nursery rhyme.

And she'd awoken. Drenched in sweat. She ran to the bathroom. There was a broken mirror above the sink. She looked up to her reflection. And a single tear drop, the colour of deep crimson, rolled down from her eye. Her breath caught, and her hand reached for the tap to run the cold water to help cool herself down. It was not enough. She looked to the tub and quickly went to it. Hurriedly running the cold water until the tub was full to the brim. So early in the morning it was still ice cold from the darkness of the night, Sansa stripped and stepped into it without hesitation, and sighed. The cold felt like home. She submerged herself completely in the water. And opened her eyes. Finally, she felt like she could breathe again. She almost laughed at that, the fact she had to literally hold her breath to feel like she could keep living. Her eyes were open. Unseeing. She wondered if it'd be so bad. If she held her breath until it drowned out all sound. She could die like that, she thought. She'd be happy to. Sansa knew what awaited her sooner or later and she'd rather die than go back to the Lannisters. The dream was a warning.

She was starting to run out of breath, the oxygen in her lungs finally running out. She didn't struggle. She welcomed the feeling of fight in her body and calmed it's rage at her for giving up so easily. She was slipping into the haze of waves, she was at the bottom of the ocean, she thought she could see her father. The figure got closer and closer until hands grabbed her. Warm hands. Not her father then. Dead men have cold hands.

She's pulled towards the surface and suddenly sound, light, and air flood her senses. It's a burning in her lungs the first breath she takes, and she's angry she was stopped. Angry because now she knows what it's like to almost die, she won't do it again. Sansa looked down to the hands that were still holding her shoulders and looked up to her supposed 'saviour', before shrugging him off.

"What the fuck do you think you were doing?!?" He yelled, almost screamed at her. He was too loud. She wished she was under water again, she looks back to the water and sinks a little lower again. Although she'd barely moved an inch before his hands were on her again, pulling her upright. He had a wild, crazed look in his eye. The type he had whenever she'd seen him fight. He was breathing heavily, and ran a hand through his hair before looking away. "What was that Sansa?" He looked back to her again, brow furrowed but without the usual scowl that accompanied that facial expression. He looked... Worried. She almost felt bad.

"I had a bad dream." She said in between breaths, only just realising she too, was still trying to catch her breath.

Then his face went from worried to angry. She almost smiled. This was what she was used to. Now she could face him. "You're gonna drown yourself over a fucking dream?"

"A _bad_ dream." She retorted.

Sandor huffed and shook his head. His hand was still hanging down in the water moving back and forth through the water. "Hop out of there, the waters like ice."

"Don't have a towel."

"You gonna try drown yourself again if I go get you one?"

"No." She said in an all too haughty tone, even she could recognise she sounded like a brat. Sandor narrowed his eyes at her, sniffing for lies. Sansa rolled her eyes, "scouts honour." She said lifting a hand from the water and feigning seriousness.

"You weren't in scouts."

"Well there ain't exactly 'whores honour' so..." Sandor grunted as he got to his feet, and quickly got her a towel. When he stood by the tub he held it open for her to step straight into. Sansa looked up to where he stood his eyes weren't looking at her body but they would be if he didn't at least turn his head. "Don't look." She said.

Sandor snorted. "Just get out of the tub."

"Promise you won't look"

He grinned at her. "Scouts honour."

* * *

He deserved a medal. Truly he did. It took all his strength and will power not to look at Sansa's body. He berated himself every time he almost did. She'd just tried to kill herself. Stupid bird. Over a fucking dream. (It scared him) that's what he was truly angry about. The fact he thought he knew his weaknesses and it turned out he didn't. He had a whole new shit-load, to worry about when it came to Sansa.

He felt the towel shift and he wrapped his arms around her without looking, until he knew that she was covered. Sansa was in his arms. He looked down as she looked up and it was as if, for the first time in his life, he wanted to stay, and just live in that moment for the rest of his life. Her perfect pink lips opened slightly and her eyes were what he thought the Galaxy would look like, light sparks, lightest of blues to darkest black, constantly changing. He understood now, the term 'to get lost in her eyes'. It'd be easy when there's a whole universe to explore.

His hand lightly brushed over her back and Sansa jerked. He frowned. "Are you hurt." He tried to look over her shoulder but she turned.

"An old hurt. Just a reflex." She whispered. She was standing with her back towards the mirror without knowing, and he could see the criss-cross of thin lines that marked her back. Scars, from a whip most like. Or a knife. The thought made his blood boil, Sansa turned to see what he was looking at and frowned when she realised he'd seen! she walked away from him and studied her reflection in the mirror.

He walked over to her and traced the thin silver stripes that covered her shoulder blades with the featherlight touch of his fingertips. "When did this happen?"

"About a month after you left. Joff's new toys. He'd always like to test them out on me first."

He felt guilty. He should've made her come with him. "Why didn't you leave when you had the chance."

She smiled to him in the mirror "You scared me Sandor, I was a stupid little girl, and you were a mean drunk."

"I did what I could to help." He said in his defence. He was the only one who ever looked out for her when she was under the Lannisters control.

"That doesnt change who we were though."

It made sense, he wouldn't push the topic. He was still tracing the lines "whip." She whispered He touched another scar, it looked deep, thick in width, but in height short. On the outside of her arm. "Steak knife." She giggled. "It was worth it though." He'd have to ask her to tell him that story one day, but at that moment he was too interested in knowing what had happened to her.

The towel shifted slightly lower and he could see a angry red mark he knew all too well. He pulled the towel lower and Sansa adjusted it so he could see her side. From her Ribs to her hip was a mass of twisted flesh. Pink and twisted. He knew exactly where this one came from. He felt bile, rise up in the back of his throat. "He.. Branded me, as his. A Lion down my side. As soon as I managed to get out, I wanted it gone. I wanted it off of me. You can still kind of see it though. I don't think I'll ever be rid of him."

"How did you get out of there?"

Suddenly Sansa closed off again. She pulled the towel back up into place and smiled coyly, "A girls gotta have her secrets." She winked. It was all a farce, of course. He could see the bitterness in her eyes. And maybe even protectiveness? Like she had to keep him from judging her for whatever she did. He didn't mind. It was day two, they'd both know each others secrets sooner or later whether they wanted to or not. He couldn't help it, he hated liars thus lying would make him a hypocrite. She, seemed to lose herself from time to time, forgetting that she's saying things out loud. She could have her secrets as long as she could keep them, but eventually he'd know.


	8. And that's what tortures me

Its long and hard travel. The sun beats down upon Sansa's fair skin until she feels the burn, and the pink of it covering her sweat drenched face. They've come across very few travellers and what ones they do, all say the same thing - to never travel in the summer. But then, there are times when Sansa feels a cool breeze or whispers on the wind, and the words 'winter is coming' echo in the back of her mind. It brings a smile to her chapped lips.

"So, what have you been up to these passed years?" She tries to break the silence.

Sandor merely grunts in reply and rummages through the saddle bag to find his flask.

She tries again. "What kind of..."

Sandor sighs heavily and stretches his back, his hips inadvertently roll forward, and Sansa jumps. He chuckles at her reaction. "Hmm. That stopped your chirping, didn't it?" She doesn't reply, only moves further forward on the saddle. She doesn't try to make conversation again throughout their ride. She's angry he's always got to ruin everything. She thought that after this morning things might be different. But, no. He is who he is and she should've realised its a rare moment 'The Hound' is anything other than crude and vicious.

When they make camp that night, he goes hunting and she starts a fire. They're camped by a rock face that seems to lean forward, giving them a small semblance of shelter. By the time she's finished making the fire and getting their bed rolls down and sorted; Sandor is back with a couple of fat hares slung over his shoulder. He skins, guts, and cooks them as Sansa brushes down stranger. Stealing peeks at him whenever she thinks he's not looking. Her mind drifts back to the saddle today. _Why does he have to be so crude? I thought with this morning..._ He catches her looking at him and smirks. She thinks he goes to say something, but he only looks back to the hares roasting over the fire. Still wearing that stupid grin on his lips.

She huffs and focuses back on her task, but it doesn't take long for her mind to drift once more. She thinks back to the feeling of his arms around her. His body pressed to hers, his hips grinding... _What am I doing?!_ She chastises herself and puts the brush away into a saddle bag, before taking her seat across the fire from him. He looks up and grins at her again. _I'm beginning to miss his scowling,_ She thinks irritatedly. "What?" She snaps.

Sandor chuckles and shakes his head, "Nothing, nothing at all." He goes back to what he's doing but continues to laugh to himself.

 _What is so god-damn funny?_ He sneaks a peek at her again and snorts. Sansa stands and stomps her foot like a child. "What is it?!?"

"Just a little something on your cheek, my lady." He says voice flat, but she can hear the mirth creeping into his tone. She wipes at both her cheeks and finds what can only be horse dung. _How did that even get there? Yuck!_ She runs over to their supplies and splashes water over hands and cheeks, scrubbing incessantly. She hears Sandor's loud bark of laughter behind her and shoots him a glare. "You could have told me!"

"I did!" He says defensively.

"Sooner!"

"Well, I would've. But you seemed kinda angry."

She bites down on her lip with a frown while she tries to contain her anger, and sits back down again. The meal takes an age to cook, and after their last interaction neither of them have the patience to try and start another conversation. She studies his large form, once more. Taking in his bulky frame, his broad shoulders, long legs, big hairy hands. She sees the beginnings of a smirk again and without even realising what she's doing she flings a pebble in his direction. She pretends to be digging through their bags for something while Sandor's head shoots up and scans the perimeter for imaginary foes. She almost laughs when she sees his expression out of the corner of her eye.

Eventually he goes back to roasting their meal. Feeling naughty, she focuses all of her energy on a small stone, just by his side and watches as it levitates. She moves it behind him and flings it at the back of his neck as hard as she can. She snorts this time, when Sandor's hand flies to the back of his neck and he turns around. He looks back at Sansa, and she does her best to give him an inquiring look. "God-damn horse flies." He mutters, and Sansa nods and bows her head trying to hide her smile.

It goes on like that a while, her throwing rocks at him and him muttering curses until finally he stands, looking very distressed and asks if she's getting bitten. Sansa shakes her head and offers to swap sides. He nods and they switch sides. She waits a couple of minutes, until he looks calm and unassuming again, before she flings another rock. This time when he jumps out of his seat and waves his arms around to shoo away the 'flies'. Sansa loses herself in a fit of laughter. She laughs until her sides hurt and Sandor stands above her looking down with a scowl. "It was you." He growls.

"What? I'm... Offended, that you would think I'd do such a..." She doesn't get to finish as Sandor lifts her and throws her over her shoulder while heading across to where their bedrolls are. He slaps her arse, and Sansa shrieks, and giggles as he mutters something akin to "peck at the dog and you'll get bit." _That's the stupidest threat I've ever heard._ She wondered if anyone had ever been idiot enough to actually be afraid of such a threat. He throws her down onto the bedrolls and cages her beneath him with his broad chest and arms. _Maybe they wouldn't be so stupid..._ She thinks as her eyes meet his. They're the colour of the sky before it storms, and she wonders what that means.

Her breathing becomes heavy as his face lowers, his lips just barely grazing hers before she feels a pinch at her waist that makes her jolt. Mischief alights in those grey eyes and another pinch to her side makes her squeal in laughter. He begins to tickle her mercilessly until she's so out of breath she fears she'll faint. After begging and pleading and apologising Sandor eventually ceases his attack, and rests above her with his weight on his knees and forearms. She's breathing heavy again, and Sandor's eyes flicker from her lips, to her neck, to any little bit of exposed skin, before meeting her eyes once more. Without waiting for the answer to the question he pleads with his eyes, he crashes his lips to hers. It's a hard kiss, unrelenting. It's teeth and passion and bruises. But the kind of bruises you love to show.

It's not until he pulls away she realises she hadn't kissed him back. He looks unsure of himself now. _He looks... Scared, almost._ Sansa notices the longer she waits the more angry than scared he looks. He goes to move off of her, but her arms go around his neck, and her fingers untie his hair and thread through the loose locks. She moves her lips towards his with her eyes wide open and studying his reaction. He kisses her back, this time softly, the way she's teaching him to. One hand cups her cheek and pulls her closer to him. It moves to her side and caresses her waist. Sansa hands are more adventurous, moving from his shoulders, to his arms, to his chest, stomach, abdomen...

He breaks away from her and looks down to where her fingers tug at the laces of his breeches. She undoes the laces and slips her hand under to take him in hand. Sandor's hips buck, and hers do the same, longing for some sort of friction. His hand hurriedly pulls up her skirts and dive inside her underclothes to touch her. His fingers immediately go to her entrance and start pumping in and out of her but it's not what she wants. With her unoccupied hand she pulls down her underwear so they're out of the way, and shows him how to touch her. She pulls at his hand until his fingers rest on the little button just above her entrance and pushes down his hand. He soon gets the idea and begins to rub tight circles there.

As her release draws nearer her movements on his shaft come to a halt, and she cries out his name while her hips buck madly against his slick fingers. When she comes back to her self, Sandor is kissing down her collarbone, licking the tops of her breasts and pulling down her dress to expose more of her flesh to his waiting mouth. As he takes one tight pink nipple into his mouth and sucks, he caresses and weighs the other with his hand. Sansa's hands slide down his body to find his erection once more. When she does she strokes slowly up and down his shaft, squeezing tight as he bucks his hips into her hand. He kisses his way back up to her mouth and Sansa strokes his burnt cheek. Sandor goes to move his head away, but she pulls him back to her. She sees the uncertainty there in his eyes and tries to plead with him to let go of his insecurities.

His eyes close and he moves his hips a few more times before he grunts his release and cums in her hand. He collapses on top of her and kisses her cheek before rolling off and pulling her into his arms.

Her eyes feel heavy and she's sated and warm here in Sandor's arms. When he goes to get up she whines but he strokes her cheek and tells her they still need to eat dinner. He puts himself back into his pants and stands to go take their (slightly burnt) hares off the fire. They eat huddled next to each other in a comfortable silence. Leaning against one another for support as they become more tired. They could've just gone to sleep, but it would be a waste of a good meal, and they didn't know when they'd eat next. By the time she finishes Sandor's been done for a while, and he throws the left over bones and scraps into the fire before taking her hand and leading her back to their bedrolls. She snuggles into his embrace and falls into a sweet peaceful rest.

* * *

When she awakes it's to something warm traveling up the side of her leg. She smiles and shifts away slightly moaning for Sandor to let her sleep. Without opening her eyes she knows it's still night, from the chill she feels from the uncovered parts of her body. It stops, for only a moment and then starts again, moving further up her leg and coiling around, she swats at it and it tightens. "Sandor, stop it." She laughs. Tighter. "Sandor, you're hurting me." She says as she pushes more incessantly at what's squeezing her leg. She moves away the blankets just in time to see the snake bite into her flesh.

The pain Is unbearable as she feels the poison moving through her veins. She screams and Sandor, who was across camp runs to her. Quicker than anything, his pocket knife is out and he kills the vile thing. She groans in pain as he pulls the dead snake away and tries to such the poison out. _It's too late for that,_ she thinks as she feels the poison spreading.

She looks into the snakes dead emerald eyes and curses. She pushes through her pain and sits up. "Get me the pot out of your bag."

"Sansa we need..."

"Now, I don't have time!"

He quickly gets the pot and under her direction places it over the fire. She guts the snake and throws it's innards into the small tin pot. She whispers, the old gods words and secrets over it until it boils, while Sandor looks on, out of morbid curiousity.

Throwing the contents of the pot onto the ground she searches through the blood and guts to find its tiny heart and swallows it whole. "Help me find all the bones." She says at Sandor.

Once all the bones are collected she rubs them together between her hands until they turn into a sticky, grainy substance and smooths it over the two fang marks on her thigh. A coolness washes over her. Time slows to a halt and ecstasy fills her veins instead of poison. Her eyes roll into the back of her head and the journey of the snake is revealed to her. She sees green eyes, dark green eyes, and pink lips that curve into a viscous smile. She sees a dessert and a small party of hunters tracking. 

Her body jolts and She comes back to herself and coughs and sputters as she tries to catch her breath. It feels like fire in her lungs, and a knife made of ice cutting down her spine. She arches and writhes against the ground, until finally she can take no more, and her vision turns black.

* * *

When she wakes again, it's morning. The stream of light from the open shutters in the room kisses her skin. She hears voices in the corner of the room.

"There's no sign of her being bitten, are you sure...?"

"Yes I'm bloody..."

"Sandor." She croaks and he's at her side in an instant, followed by a frail old man.

"I'll give you two a minute," the old man says and Sansa eyes him suspiciously as her walks out of the room. _Something about his smell..._

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Good. Then, What the fuck was that?" He asks without any preamble.

"We need to go." She goes to get up but he pushes her back down.

"What. Was. That." He says slowly. _I can't tell him. He'll hate me if her knows._

 "Nothing." She pushes at his hands and he punches the headboard, with a loud _crack_.

"Stop lying!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! It's been ages, I know! Honestly I have no clue where this story is going so it's become quite hard to write. I've got a very vague idea for a couple of chapters, so hopefully it won't be as long a wait this time. Hope you enjoyed the chapter :) xx
> 
> Ps: I'm sorry the magic scene is kinda shotty, I've never written anything remotely like this. Hopefully I'll get better haha some advice would be great.

**Author's Note:**

> So I hoped you liked it! Let me know what you all think ;) xxx


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